


My hands are shaking from holding back from you

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, Dramione Duet 2020, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, Kitchen Sex, Lingerie, Miscommunication, Mistletoe, Misunderstandings, PWP, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: It's Christmas Eve at The Burrow and Hermione's waiting for everything to kick off.“That will be Harry and the boys.”Hermione nodded, still thinking about what Ginny had said when Harry and the boys stepped into view.She stood suddenly, her stool toppling back as they came into view. “What are you doing here?”“Well, Granger,” Draco Malfoy said, stroking a hand through his hair as he met her glare with one of his own, “it’s nice to see you too.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 32
Kudos: 633
Collections: Completed/Downloaded/Read Works, round 12 2020





	My hands are shaking from holding back from you

**Author's Note:**

> My chosen prompt was Draco is friends with Harry and/or the Weasleys, and he's invited to the Burrow Christmas party. Hermione is not amused. It would be great if the creator included a mistletoe kiss and/or semi-public sex. Please don't include a jealous Ron. I'd love it if he's left out or if he's around, being chill and hilarious. A massive thank you to [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik) for the alpha/beta (any remaining mistakes remain my own) and to Paris Hilton for her exceptioniall support <3 Enjoy!

Hermione had been spending Christmas Eve at the burrow for as long as she could remember. The house thrived on the bright and joyful atmosphere, almost expanding to accommodate all the Weasleys and their strays; an environment Hermione never took for granted in the years since the war.

She entered the kitchen, two glasses of mulled wine in hand, and approached Ginny.

“Have you seen this?” Ginny asked. Hermione cringed, spotting the pregnancy announcement Lavender was due to send out over the next few days that Ginny was waving around. Molly had thrust one under Hermione’s nose as soon as she’d stepped through the backdoor, and Hermione had done her best to smile genuinely and not in horror at the gaudiness of it.

“Yes.” Hermione passed Ginny another glass of mulled wine and sipped on her own. Harry and Ron were running late—a last minute series of arrests, their owl had said—while Lavender had already been holding court in the living room with a very uncomfortable looking Daphne Greengrass. Harry’s publicly acknowledged girlfriend of exactly one week—though Hermione knew the two of them had been dating secretly for months—watched on.

“It’s bad.”

“It’s horrific," Ginny said, rightfully correcting Hermione. She shuddered.

“What?”

“I’m just—” Ginny broke off, carefully glancing round to make sure nobody was around to hear them, and said, “What if Mum tries to suggest something similar for me?”

Hermione snorted, then covered her mouth when Arthur cast her an odd look from where he was coming through the backdoor carrying a bundle of firewood.

“Sorry. I just... You would never let your mother strong arm you into anything and these,” Hermione said, gesturing to the bright yellow and purple pieces of paper between them, “are just as much Lavender's idea as they are your mother's.” Hermione lifted the cards and put them away into a drawer. “Plus we both know your brother said nothing about this. I doubt he’s even seen them.”

“I know.” Ginny blew an audible breath out between her teeth and nodded. “You’re right.”

“Known to happen,” Hermione agreed, tilting her glass in Ginny’s direction. “Plus it’s not like you and Blaise are anywhere near ready for that level of responsibility. It hasn’t even been a year,” she said, lifting her glass to her lips. It was only when she noticed how quiet Ginny had become that she realised the implication of her silence. She gently set her glass down on the work top and turned towards the redhead.

“Please tell me you’re not.” Hermione said quietly, her eyes flicking over Ginny's slim frame. 

“No.” She shook her head vehemently and took a large gulp of the wine Hermione had given her. “No. But—”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“It was just a scare,” Ginny said quickly. Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

“Are you okay?”

Ginny nodded. “I’m fine. I—” She took a breath. “I’m the one that panicked. Blaise was…" she trailed off, a smile tugging at her lips, and Hermione’s heart soared for how obviously happy her friend was. 

Everyone was moving on in their lives. Moving forwards. Getting married. Having babies. Introducing their girlfriends to their parents, or in Harry's case, the closest thing he had.

“He was so calm, Hermione,” Ginny said, interrupting her thoughts. “He held my hand and he reassured me and when the spell came back negative he was comforting and—I know that when the time comes. He’s the one.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Hermione said, squeezing her friend into a hug. “And so relieved,” she said, laughing. 

“Me too,” Ginny said. Sighing, she lifted her drink and drained the glass. “Me too.”

Hermione snorted. “Let’s go rescue Daphne. Where is Blaise anyway?”

“Oh he had to attend the Malfoy’s Christmas Eve gala for an hour or so. He’s going to pop in after.”

“Oh.” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did he not ask you to go with him?”

Ginny snorted this time. “Oh, he did. Practically begged me to. But you know me.” Ginny shrugged, unaffected. “I like to be home at Christmas. Mum prefers it too.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah.” 

They joined Daphne, who looked so relieved by their presence that Hermione couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” But she lifted her glass to her mouth and without taking a drink said, “But if Molly looks at between me and Lavender and says, ‘won't be long till you’re popping out little Potters dear,’ one more time I think I'm going to stab something.”

“Merlin, please tell me you’re joking?” 

“I wish,” Daphne said, finally drinking from her glass. Ginny dropped her head into her hand and groaned.

“She has no filter,” Ginny said, sitting up suddenly and glaring towards the kitchen. “Though I’m not going to lie.” Her eyes slid towards Daphne and a smirk tilted her lips. “It is nice not to be the sole focus of her attention.”

“Ginny,” Hermione chastised, laughing.

Ginny pointed her empty glass at Hermione and stood. “Just you wait,” she said. “Soon she’ll be on to you. _‘Why haven't you settled down with a nice young man yet, Hermione? Don’t you want to get married one day, Hermione? When will you start having kids, Hermione?’”_

Hermione’s heart fell to her stomach as she stared at her friend; Daphne jostled with laughter beside her.

“That is uncanny.”

Ginny took a dramatic bow and smirked. “Thank you.” She turned on her heel just as the Floo flared.

“That will be Harry and the boys.”

Hermione nodded, still thinking about what Ginny had said when Harry and _the boys_ stepped into view.

She stood suddenly, her stool toppling back as they came into view. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Granger,” Draco Malfoy said, stroking a hand through his hair as he met her glare with one of his own, “it’s nice to see you too.”

“Malfoy was looking lost in the Ministry Atrium, so we thought we’d bring him along,” Harry said, leaning across Hermione to buff a kiss across Daphne’s cheek. He turned to her and although he asked, “You don’t mind do you?” It was obvious that he wouldn’t accept any other answer than, "Yes."

Ginny chose that moment to reappear, blinking at the sight of Malfoy before pressing a glass of elf-wine into Hermione’s shaking hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, staring at the blond. “Are you done with your parents already?” she looked around him. “Is Blaise with you?”

He stared at Hermione.

“He got caught up at the party. He’ll be along soon.”

Hermione sipped at her glass and narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be there too?” 

“I was. Put in an appearance, said my hellos—cheers, mate,” Draco said when Ron pushed a glass of punch into his hand before he dropped into the empty space beside Lavender. “Then I left. Had an important errand to run.”

“An errand?”

“Yes. It’s never ending and a pain in the arse. It’s had me running around the Ministry, around London really, for the better part of a year.”

“Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” Harry said, sliding onto the stool that had toppled back when Hermione had stood; Hermione’s hand curled into a fist at the implication. When she lifted her eyes from her best friend it was to see Malfoy staring at her, a faraway look in his eye. He shook his head.

“No. It’s worth it.”

Hermione opened her mouth but Mrs. Weasley chose that same moment to enter the room. 

“Presents!” she announced, setting the tray of mince pies, stollen bites, and slices of chocolate yule log onto the large coffee table in the middle of the room. Another tray, stacked with a pot of tea and a dozen cups followed behind her. Hermione allowed Ginny to drag her away from the confrontation and onto the sofa between the fireplace and the tree.

The tree in the corner of the room, which Hermione had watched become more inundated with gifts over the past few weeks until it was an overflowing mess, was attacked by both Teddy and Victoire, the only kids old enough to know what on earth was happening and to be excited about it. Immediately both kids began to pass the presents out until everyone—Malfoy was chucked a handful of sweets with no tag attached—had a pile of gifts.

The kids scrambled back to their seats, and Molly cheered, saying, “Dig in.”

Hermione watched her friends—her family—open their gifts and smiled at them when they turned to thank her. She checked the gift tags of her own gifts and thanked her friends with a smile. 

Mrs. Weasley had once asked her why she never opened her gifts along with everyone else, and Hermione had told her how her father had always said it was bad luck to sneak even the tiniest peek. It was something she wanted to pass on to her own children when she eventually had them, in memory of her parents.

A present thrust into her face startled her. “Merry Christmas, Granger.”

Hermione stared at the hand and subsequent gift Malfoy had presented her with. “You got me a present?” she asked, looking up at him with narrow eyes.

“He got us all presents,” Ginny said, gesturing to the gift she was tearing into. “Oh look.” She lifted the wrapping for Hermione to see inside. “It’s a scarf to match those gloves you got me.”

Hermione blinked at the sight of them. She’d purchased her gifts one lunchtime weeks ago and that evening Malfoy had come to her office for a _meeting._ She hadn’t seen him looking through the bags but—

Hermione swallowed and did her best to smile at her. “That’s lovely.”

Ginny stood and wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck, pulling him into a hug, but when she pulled back she was stuck. The three of them looked up to see a bushel of mistletoe winding its way around the rafters and hanging just above Draco and Ginny.

Draco blinked, and Ginny's mouth twisted into a smirk, and Hermione watched in abject horror as Ginny leaned up and pressed her lips to Malfoy’s, recreating the moment that had brought her and the blond together one year ago at the Ministry’s Christmas Gala.

She swept the unopened gifts from her lap and stood quickly, sidestepping them and making her way into the kitchen and out the back door.

She brushed away her tears and took a deep breath. _Ginny loves Blaise,_ she recited to herself, pacing the porch and rubbing her hands along her bare arms as she calmed down. _She would never be interested in a pointy blond ferret_. “Not like you,” she said quietly, leaning her forehead against the cool wood of the house. 

She took another deep breath then pushed the door open and stepped back into the house. She’d just made it past the pantry when a hand struck out, wrapped around her arm, and pulled her inside.

Hermione glared up at her captor, staring down at her with all his pure-blooded pointiness.

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

“Back to Malfoy, eh?” he asked. “Is that how it is?”

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, staring determinedly at the jars of pickled and brined home-grown vegetables Mrs. Weasley had stored in the pantry.

She jerked her head. “That’s how it is.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, meeting his glare. “Okay, Malfoy.”

He took a step towards her, crowding her against the packed shelves. “What is your problem, Granger?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Hermione—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t fancy hanging around watching my _boyfriend_ neck on with one of my best friends—”

Draco scoffed. “We were _not_ necking on. You’re being ridiculous.”

Hermione jerked her head. “Okay.”

His nostrils flared. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week. Working from home. Blocking your Floo. Locking down your wards. What the hell was that about?”

“So sorry I wasn’t eager to see your smug, leering face everytime Alice leaned down and over your desk, with her shirt hanging open so she could flash you her considerable cleavage.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco said.

Hermione’s eyes flicked to meet his before returning to stare at the jars behind his head. “Your assistant.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Okay.”

“Regardless,” she said, examining her nails now, “I’m sure that if it was important enough you would have found a way to speak to me.” She was speaking quickly, voice pitch getting higher and higher; she was furious with him. “I mean, how hard is it, really, to simply Apparate to your girlfriend's, the woman you proclaim to _adore—_ ” She sneered the word "—and speak to her directly.”

“I think you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to speak to me.”

“Well you made it pretty clear that you have zero intention of introducing me to your parents.” She lifted her head and stared at him. “So I’m not really sure what else there is to say.”

Draco startled, stepping back as he stared at her. His eyes flicked across her face, and Hermione did her best to not flinch under his stare; to not cry.

“That’s not—Hermione, that’s not true.”

“Even Ginny was invited to your parent’s party this evening, Draco.” She swiped the tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks away with the back of her hand, furious she hadn’t been able to keep them at bay. “I suppose it doesn’t matter that she’s a ‘blood traitor,’” she moved her fingers to air-quote the words, “because at least she’s a pure-blood.”

“Hermione.” He grabbed at her wrist but she slipped from his grasp.

“And it’s not like I ever expected this,” she waved a finger between them, “to go anywhere. After all, everyone’s moving on—moving forward in their life, and we’re stuck in this endless cycle of fucking with no real commitmemnt or discussion of feelings, the future, anything, Draco.” 

She took a deep breath as she stared up at him. “It’s _fine_.”

“Hermione.” He grabbed both her wrists this time, his thumb stroking over her pulse point. “Hermione, I already told my parents about us.”

She stared up at him, hardly daring to believe. “What?”

He stroked a hand through his hair, looking more nervous than Hermione could ever remember seeing him, including at his trial after the war. “I met with them during the week. I—” He broke off and cleared his throat. “I told them that I’d met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Well,” he shot her a sly look, “reconnected with her.”

She stared up at him, very aware that she probably closely resembled a fish with her mouth opening and closing. 

“I told them that whilst I would always respect and love them, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow their beliefs to affect who I would spend my life with. That I’d already let them control so much of my life.”

Hermione swallowed but when he said nothing else, eyes too busy moving over her, she smacked his arm. “And?”

He blinked, moving his hands up her arms to grasp at her shoulders. “And they want to meet her.”

“Really? Did you tell them who it was or are you leaving that as a surprise in the hope my appearance gives your father a heart attack?”

Draco snorted. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Draco?”

“I told them. Hermione,” he said, inhaling deeply, “they don’t care. And even if they did…” He trailed off and cupped her jaw; his thumb tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. “I don’t.”

“No?”

He lifted an eyebrow at her, and Hermione blushed but Draco simply shook his head. “No. And so...” He slipped his hand inside of his robes, pulled out an envelope and pressed it into Hermione’s hand. “Here you go. From my mother.”

Hermione balked, taking the envelope and turning it in her hand. “What is it?”

“An invitation.”

“To what?”

“To tea, Granger.”

“Oh.” She looked up at him. “That’s… nice.”

He took the envelope from her, returning it to the inside of his robes and nodded, his lips lifting up into a smug smile. He stepped towards her once more. 

“Yes,” he said. He ducked his head and nudged his nose along the column of her throat. Hermione shivered, eyes darting toward the door that wasn’t quite closed; she could see shadows moving around the kitchen just a few metres away. 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

His hands were working their way beneath her blouse, thumbs swiping across her hip bones and sending goosebumps over her body; his thigh pressed between her legs. 

“Apologising,” he replied.

Hermione flicked her tongue out over her lips. “You don’t have to. We were both in the wrong.”

Draco snorted but said nothing. His fingers caught on the zip of her skirt and carefully, he undid it, letting the material fall so that it pooled around her feet on the ground. He groaned, and Hermione bit back a smirk. 

She’d taken to wearing a full set of matching lingerie—garter belt included—when they’d started regularly sleeping together because she knew it drove him mad knowing she was walking around with them all day beneath her clothes. And even though they hadn’t spoken all week, it had become such a habit that Hermione hadn’t even questioned why she was bothering to snap her stockings into place that morning. 

“You’re such a minx, Granger,” Draco said. He’d dropped to his knees and was currently sliding his tongue over the band of bare skin where her stocking met the flesh of her thigh. He snapped the elastic against her thigh. “Who were you wearing these for, hmm?”

“Just habit. Fuck, Malfoy.” He’d slipped two fingers beneath the lace of the crotch of her knickers, sliding them over her wet slit. Hermione’s eyes darted between his smug expression and the door. “Someone’s going to see.”

He held the material away from her cunt and licked her with one broad stroke. He pulled back and stared up at her, two fingers sliding into her, twisting to nudge that spongy spot he knew brought her to her knees. “Good. Then everyone will know that you’re mine.”

He ducked his head and lapped at her, tongue dipping between his fingers into her hole; Hermione’s hand clenched in his hair while the other clutched at the shelf he’d backed her into.

“Malfoy!” she gasped. Her eyes darted between where he was looking up at her—tongue swirling around her clit but never pressing against it— and the door. His lips latched onto her clit and he sucked; _hard_. He pulled back, fingers still moving inside of her, teasing her.

“You know what I want to hear.”

“Malfoy.” He twisted his wrist, and Hermione's knees buckled. She caught herself on his shoulders. “Draco.” He smirked. “Please,” she pleaded. 

He stood, fingers still moving. “Look at you. Fucking yourself on my hand.” Hermione’s hips chased his hand as he leaned forward, his teeth dragging down her neck. “Missed this. Missed you.” He sucked at her neck, and Hermione knew she’d have a hickey; he’d never left a hickey in such a visible place before. It felt like he was marking her. 

Her arms hung limply around his neck. “I missed you too,” she said quietly, and it made him pause. He pulled back and met her stare. 

“Yeah?”

Hermione nodded, stroking her hands through the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Draco—”

He cut her off, mouth pressing against hers in a fierce and insistent clash of teeth and tongue and lips. “Turn around,” he said into her mouth, hands on her hips sliding her knickers over her arse and down her legs, moving her into the position he wanted before he’d even finished speaking. 

His lips continued to kiss her; down her throat, across her shoulders while his hands moved between them, pulling at his trousers. Hermione heard his belt buckle hit the floor and shuddered with anticipation as he nudged her legs apart and slid the tip of his cock through the slick folds of her cunt.

“Is this what you want?” Draco stilled her with a touch to her hip when she rocked her hips back, begging for his touch. “Is it? My cock sliding into your wet cunt? Right here—” Draco turned her head towards the door; Hermione could see Harry through the gap, laughing at some unknown person, "—where anyone could open the door and see you.” He reached up and tugged the cups of her bra down, tweaking her nipples into tight little points. “See me fucking you like the little fuck you are.”

“You’re not—” His cock slid over her clit and she whimpered. “You’re not fucking me yet.”

“Merlin, you’re a mouthy little tease.” She felt him moving behind her, and lifting up on her toes, she tilted her arse out. Draco slid into her with a grunt, before immediately pulling out and sliding all the way to the hilt on his second thrust.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he grunted in agreement. “You’re so fucking wet, dripping down my cock.” He slipped a hand round her waist, and Hermione whined when she felt his fingers drag across her clit, sliding over where his cock was fucking into her with slow, deep thrusts that left her aching to be ruined. He slapped it over her cunt once before he lifted it to her mouth. “Here” He pressed two slick soaked fingers into her mouth. “Suck.”

Hermione turned her head just enough that she could meet his eye as she flicked her tongue over each finger, sucking on his digits like they were her favourite flavoured sugar quills. Draco grinned at her and leaning forward, hips still slapping quietly against her arse, quickly bit at her bottom lip. 

“Fuck, I missed you.”

“Do I taste good?” she asked, glancing up at him and sucking on the lip he’d just bruised. He groaned, nodding as he stilled his hips. “What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

Draco said nothing but he stepped back, and Hermione whined at the loss of his cock. She was about to chastise him once more for leaving her wanting when he dropped to his knees and spread her arse cheeks with both hands.

“Merlin,” he said, voice reverent with wonder. Hermione felt his fingers trail up the inside of her left leg and stroke along the soaked folds of her cunt. “Look at you.”

Before Hermione had a chance to reply, he leaned forward; his tongue swept through her labia, flicking gently over her clit before dipping repeatedly into her cunt. His nose nudged at the pucker of her arse, and she teetered on her heels, whimpering.

He drew back, fingers replacing his tongue as he bit into the flesh of her bum. A loud slap startled Hermione, and she glanced towards the gap in the door once more.

“Draco!” she hissed. “Stop—Fuck.” He’d stood again, wrist twisting as three fingers moved in and out of her, the wet slap of his fingers echoing loudly in the tiny room. “Draco, someone is going to _catch_ us.”

He stepped closer, breath hot against her skin, his cock wet on her arse. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I already told you. Good.”

Hermione turned her head over her shoulder to watch him. “I’m tired of hiding, Hermione. Of conducting our business behind closed doors because we’re worried some people might not be able to handle the fact we’ve got our shit together—”

“Draco.”

“I want—” He took a deep breath. Hermione leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“Tell me.”

“I want everything.”

She smiled up at him and could feel her face scrunching up in happiness. “Me too.”

He nodded, eyes still guarded before he smirked down at her and withdrew his fingers once more. “Good. Excellent. But first,” he said, turning Hermione and hitching her into his arms against the shelves, one arm resting under her arse like a little bench, “I want to come.”

His cock slid through her wetness, ridge catching deliciously on her clit.

“I’m so close.”

“I’m not even inside you yet,” Draco said, amused. 

She glared up at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love the fact I’m so easy for you. That your ego doesn’t go soaring when you slide into me and I come immediately.” She slipped a hand between them, thumb dragging over the slit of his cock, wet with pre-come, and angled him inside of her. “I know you do.”

She was so wet, he bottomed out on the first thrust. 

“Fuck,” he said. “I forgot how good you feel wrapped around my cock.”

Hermione’s snort quickly turned to a whine. “You were inside me like three minutes ago.”

“Yes,” he said. His thrusts were short and shallow and quickly driving her wild. He grinned at her, dragging his gaze from where his cock was moving into her. “And I forgot how good you feel.” He hefted her higher into his arms; her legs snaked around his hips, ankles crossed. The heels of her feet rested against the small of his back, one stiletto dangling off her toes, the other having already slipped off. Hermione’s arms wrapped around his neck as both his hands grasped her hips. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He lifted her and titled his hips, bringing her down on him at the same moment he thrust up into her.

“Draco.”

“I don’t think you give a fuck who catches us, love,” he said. His eyes flit towards the door before he gazed at her with a lazy smirk, the contrast stark compared to the way he was moving his hips. “If you did you wouldn’t be moaning so loudly for my cock.”

“Fuck you,” she said. “Fuck.”

“Merlin, you feel so good.” He met her eyes. “Do you want to come?”

“So badly.”

He hummed, eyes fixed on where they were joined. “Go on then,” he jerked his head towards her, “play with your pretty cunt.”

She was breathless. “Yeah?”

He nodded and breathed a quiet, “Yeah,” in return. “I want to feel you gush wet on my dick.”

Hermione dropped one hand from behind his neck and slid her fingers across her clit, shivering at the touch. “Merlin, look at you.”

“Draco.”

“Never seen anything as beautiful as you.” He pressed his mouth quickly against hers, lips insistent as they moved against hers; Hermione's tongue licked at his lips, and Draco groaned. “Fuck.”

Hermione smirked. “Maybe it’s you who can’t help yourself.”

His hips snapped hard and stilled, glaring at her; Hermione could feel how tense he was. “Merlin, you’re in for it,” he said. “This is what’s going to happen.” He moved one hand to wrap around her waist and dropped the other between them, his fingers sliding over her own. “You’re going to come.” His thumb pressed down on her clit, and Hermione bucked in his grasp as her oragasm washed over her. Draco smirked, moving his thumb in gentle, lazy circles as he slowly began to move his hips again. “And I’m going to fill you up.”

“Draco.”

“We’re going to go back out there,” he said emphatically, jerking his head towards the door, “and tell all our friends we’re together.”

“They’re going to know what we were doing.”

Draco snorted. He bent his head and let his lips brush over hers as he fucked her. “No, they won’t.” Hermione lifted an eyebrow in challenge, and he grinned. “There's no way any of your friends would even consider the thought that you’re in here, getting fucked like a two sickle whore.”

Hermione leaned back, biting at her bottom lip. “No?”

“Fuck no.” He gripped her by the hips once more, so tight Hermione knew she would have his handprints in the form of bruises when she looked in the mirror tomorrow. “Just me; only I know what you’re really like. Mine.”

“Yeah.” She slanted her lips across his once more, tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he fucked up into her, harder and faster. “Draco—”

“I know,” he said. “Fuck. I’m right there.”

Her tongue flicked over his earlobe. “Fill me up so you can take me home and fuck me like you love me.” His hips stuttered, and Hermione groaned as he grunted, his hips moving in short snaps as he filled her with his come. 

“Fuck.” He stilled, both arms holding her as his cock twitched and continued to pulse inside her. 

Hermione stroked her hands through his hair, swallowing as she realised what she’d said. What she'd implied. 

“Are you okay?” she asked eventually.

“I’m glorious.” He pulled out and helped her stand; one foot slid back into her heel, and they both laughed at the sight before noises from the kitchen reminded them of their reckless behaviour. Draco tucked himself away and Hermione quickly pulled her bra, skirt, and blouse back on. She was shoving her garter belt into the pocket of Draco’s dress robes when she felt her knickers. 

“Ah ah,” Draco said, snatching them back. “Those are mine.”

Hermione blinked and held her hand out. “You might have bought them but unless you plan on wearing them, they definitely belong to me.”

He tucked them back into his pocket, smug amusement on his face. “Regardless, you can’t have them.” He stepped closer and pressed a hand between her leg, fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh and stopping just before they reached the apex. Hermione took a deep breath as she stared up at him. 

“I want you to feel me the rest of the evening. And when we get home...” He dragged his mouth down the column of her throat and flicked his tongue over her pulse. “You’ll be ready for me.” 

Hermione huffed, leaning against the shelf to fix her other shoe. “You’re such a caveman.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her slide her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a ponytail.

“You love that,” he said. 

Hermione smirked. “No comment.”

The door pulled open, and Hermione blinked at the sight of Blaise and Ginny stumbling into the pantry, so wrapped up in each other that neither of them noticed Hermione and Draco until Draco cleared his throat and the two of them sprung apart. 

“Draco, mate,” Blaise began, dark eyebrows lifting high on his forehead as he flicked his gaze over Hermione’s—no doubt rumpled—figure and smirked. “Granger.” He set Ginny on her feet, and they both grinned. “Now, I wonder what on earth the two of you could have been up to.” 

Ginny looked like the cat who’d got the cream as Hermione approached and slipped past both of them with a squeaky, “Nothing.” 

She patted herself down, then her cheeks, as she re-entered the living room. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, appearing out of nowhere with a full glass of wine. “I was just about to come and find you.” Hermione took it, doing her best not to let her hands shake. She had just opened her mouth when someone, Draco, stepped up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist; his fingers spanned the breadth of her stomach, and he brushed his thumb against the underside of her breast as he stared at her best friend.

“She’s fine, Potter.” He looked down at her, and Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks at Harry’s smirk. “Just a little worn out.”

“Draco.” Hermione glared up at him. “Stop.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.” He jerked his head in Harry’s direction. “Potter knows all about your love of riding dragons.”

“Are you doing puns again Draco?” Daphne asked, sidling up alongside them wrapping her arm around Harry’s waist. “Really?”

“Harry?”

“You need to work on your silencing charms,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. “You’re lucky I was able to divert Kingsley away from your office the one time you forgot.”

“You knew?”

Hermione had been careful. She’d warned Draco they had no choice but to be. Relationships, whilst not _forbidden_ between co-workers, were most definitely frowned upon. Not to mention how his parents or her friends would react. What was the point of putting everyone through all that when she didn't expect them to last at all?

“I knew that you’d been seeing someone for a while.” Harry's eyes slid to Daphne, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. “I know what a satisfied woman looks like.”

“Wow, gross.”

“Merlin, Potter, there's no need to be crude.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said, “and that wasn’t the pair of you _fucking_ in the pantry I stopped half a dozen Weasleys from bursting in on.”

“Not all the Weasleys,” Draco said petulantly.

Hermione reached her hand out and patted Harry’s arm. “Thank you.”

He tilted his glass in her direction. “You’re welcome. Now, what did Malfoy get you for Christmas?”

“Oh.” Draco summoned the gift from where Hermione had left it, unopened alongside her other gifts, and pressed it on her hand. She looked up at him. “But it’s not Christmas yet.”

“It’s close enough,” Daphne said.

“It’s not your real gift anyway.”

Hermione carefully pulled the paper apart, still looking up at Draco.

“You got me a gift?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t get me one?”

She thought about the four gifts sitting beneath her tree carefully wrapped in navy blue silk paper and blushed. 

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione said when the paper had fallen apart. She looked between her gift and her boyfriend. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know it’s cliche.”

“You got her a book,” Harry said, but Hermione shook her head.

“It’s not just a book. It’s—Merlin, Draco where did you find this?”

“What is it?”

“It’s Miranda Goshawks’ memoirs. There's thought to only be three copies of this book left in existence,” Hermione said, all without taking her eyes off Draco. She stepped forward, tangling her hand in the lapel of his robe and pulling him down to meet her lips. “Thank you.”

One hand cupped her jaw, fingers stroking delicately across the skin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, pressing his lips to hers once more.

“Merlin, how the two of you kept this relationship a secret for more than five minutes is a miracle.”

Hermione’s lips curled up, and she smiled into her kiss with draco. They pulled back.

“We should go,” Hermione said.

Draco nodded, eyes dark as he stared down at her. Hermione smiled wryly. Taking his free hand in hers, memoir clutched tightly in the other, she buffed a kiss against both Harry's and Daphne’s cheeks. She summoned her coat and other gifts with a wiggle of her fingers; Draco caught each of them and tucked them away into his robes while she slipped her coat on. They stepped towards the fireplace only to notice Molly and Arthur holding court in front of it.

“Maybe we should Apparate back to yours,” Hermione said, turning to look up at Draco. “I don't want a big hooha about us leaving.” 

Draco nodded and turned on his heel, quickly guiding Hermione through the living room, kitchen, and out into the night air. He took Hermione’s hand and slid his fingers through the gaps of her own. Hermione watched their joined hands instead of the path towards the gate where the Burrow wards ended, and felt goosebumps erupt across her skin. 

They were really going to do this. 

Draco, oblivious to Hermione’s revelations, spoke an incantation and then they were past the gate and standing in Draco’s hallway. 

She stared up at him as he removed his robes then helped her out of her coat and tugged her towards the living room to sit on the couch where she landed on his lap. Hermione could see that his mouth was moving but she had no idea what the words coming out were when they suddenly stopped. She flicked her eyes up his face only to find him staring at her with amusement.

“You weren’t even listening were you?”

“I love you.”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide and her heart drop into her stomach. That was _definitely_ not what she’d planned on saying. 

She shuffled back from his lap to his knees, moving to stand when he grasped her by the back of the neck,, turning so that she was pinned beneath his considerably larger frame on the sofa, and brought his mouth down to hers.

“That’s excellent news, Granger,” he said, sliding one hand up her leg but moving it no higher than the inside of her knee, “because I love you too.”


End file.
